


tell me what you waitin' for

by NOHARDFEELINGS



Series: head over heels [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slight Pain Kink, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NOHARDFEELINGS/pseuds/NOHARDFEELINGS
Summary: college AU. Erik and T'Challa meet at a party and it goes downhill from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been obsessed with Erik and T'Challa for a few weeks now and wanted to try my hand at writing a college AU since reading [All the Stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13692480/chapters/31449477) by moonily. The title comes from the song FACE by BROCKHAMPTON.

It started at a party.

Nakia had invited him because she claimed he needed to live a little and get out more, but he knew it was because her roommate had gotten sick and she needed a designated driver. He went because he still found it hard to say no to her when she asked for anything, and because their relationship had not been the same since their breakup, so he figured accompanying her would set them on the right track to being comfortable with each other again.

It was a typical college party, filled to the brim with underage drinking, rap music, and a lot of people that weren’t going to remember anything they did or said the next day. It wasn’t T’Challa’s scene (even less so with him being very sober and all) but it wasn’t too bad. He and Nakia sat outside on the deck and watched people make out and play beer pong, and that was fun for a while. People stopped by to talk to him, surprised to see him _here_ with _them_ , exposed to all the party drugs, liquor, and rude dancing.

T’Challa wasn’t surprised that they thought he was a prude. When you’re the Dean’s son, you’re expected to behave a certain way.

After a few hours of sitting there watching a beer pong tournament that somehow turned into strip-pong, T’Challa was ready to leave. Nakia was drunk by then. She was leaning comfortably at his side and after sitting awkwardly stiff for a while, he’d placed a gentle, hesitant arm around her shoulder. He stared down at her short hair until she turned to look up at him, eyes shiny and blazing bright under the warm glow of the tiki lamps outside.

She bit her lips and grinned. He’d missed her. He missed being this close to her.

A giggle bubbled out past her lips and T’Challa was suddenly reminded that she was drunk and whatever he saw behind her eyes were due to the liquid happiness she had been indulging in all night. He looked away from her, retreating from the moment.

When he turned back to the game, new challengers had made their way to the table. T’Challa recognized the new competitors as a few members of the football team that was going against a few members of the basketball team. The stripping rules stayed intact and the football team had lost, much to the delight of the women in attendance, especially Nakia who had perked up in interest when Sam Wilson pulled off his jeans. That was T’Challa’s sign that it was time to take her home.

As he was shifting to get up, however, a shadow fell over him and it made him take pause. He looked up slowly, eyes lifting past a bare chest until it settled on someone’s face. Someone T’Challa knew from around campus.

“Sup, Nakia?” the guy standing above them asked with a grin on his face. His thick arms were folded across his broad chest and T’Challa tried not to stare, but he and his chest were right _there_.

“Erik,” Nakia replied, sounding suddenly sober. She sat up straighter and narrowed her eyes, but her hostility only made the other man laugh.

“Looks like you enjoyin’ the party,” Erik said, voice laced with mockery. “Never expected to see Miss Young Entrepreneurs sloppy drunk.” He then turned to T’Challa. “And the Dean’s son. What, yall doin’ some kinda ‘good kids gone bad’ shit?”

There were a few chuckles from the guys behind them and T’Challa ignored them in favor of failing to hold his tongue. “Maybe if you concentrated more on your game than on Nakia and I, you would have won.”

Erik smirked, then scoffed. “Hey, I was playin’ to lose anyway. I’m givin’ the ladies a show.”

“That loss was on purpose?” T’Challa asked with a smile. “You probably should have made it less humiliating, then.”

Erik’s smirk widened into a sharp grin, and ok, T’Challa had to admit to himself then and there that this guy was attractive. Erik wasn’t what he would usually be into, but he was still a looker.

One of Erik’s buddies tossed him his discarded t-shirt and he slung it around his neck like a rag before inviting himself to sit with Nakia and T’Challa. He sat down next to Nakia and ignored the way she glared at him.

“What yall drinkin’?” He asked as if he was talking to friends and not two people who were obviously not.

“I’m driving,” T’Challa said, his voice curt.

“I’ve had enough, thank you.” Nakia replied sharply. T’Challa was a little surprised by her attitude. Nakia was usually very friendly, but she took no shit, which he loved. But he’d never seen her behave this way towards someone. Obviously, this Erik had angered her before. She’d never told him about it, so T’Challa made a mental note to ask her about it later.

“How yall gon come to my party and give me the cold shoulder?” Erik asked as he shook his head as in disbelief. “Why are yall even here?”

“Are we not allowed to have fun?” T’Challa asked.

“Daddy know you here?”

“I’m a grown man who is fully capable of stepping out without my father’s knowledge or permission.”

Erik looked at him as if he didn’t believe him, but he didn’t challenge T’Challa further. Instead, he turned his attentions back to Nakia who stood up (with some difficulty) and put her small clutch in T’Challa’s lap.

“I’ll be back,” She said as she wobbled a little on her heels. She regained her composure quickly, however, and ran her hands over her top, smoothing out the creases. “Hopefully, our company will be gone when I return.” Before Erik or T’Challa could reply, she left.

T’Challa watched her walk away with wobbly grace, then he turned to look at Erik who was leering at Nakia’s ass as she made her way through the crowd.

“Damn,” Erik hissed as he tilted his head to the side in a comical way that would have made T’Challa laugh if his annoyance levels weren’t about to hit its peak. “Feisty and fine, just like I like ‘em. That ass is-”

“It would be wise to choose your next words carefully,” T’Challa interrupted as he leveled a serious look at Erik.

Erik turned to look at him with a challenging expression that stated, ‘I can say what I want and what the fuck exactly are you going to do about it?’ T’Challa didn’t back down and the moment became tense. Eventually, Erik eased back and smirked while shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about me steppin’ in your territory. She fine, but I’m not interested.”

“She is not my territory,” T’Challa said. His voice was neutral again, but he remained on edge just in case Erik decided to say anymore disrespectful shit out of his mouth about Nakia.

Erik cocked his head. “You were about to fight me and you not even hittin’ that?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes and, for a second, debated replying but Erik got up before he could say anything.

“Whatever, Mr. White Knight.” The other man said as he got up and stretched. His muscles rippled under his skin and T’Challa definitely stared again. It was hard not to. Erik was in spectacular shape and even though T’Challa was usually a personality person, he still knew how to appreciate a nice sight.

Unfortunately, he appreciated just a few seconds too long and when he looked up to Erik’s face again, he could see the other man giving him a slightly confused expression before his smirk came back in full swing. T’Challa wasn’t one to feel shame easily, but he felt a quick, sharp sense of embarrassment at being caught. The uncomfortable feeling, however, went away when instead of mocking him for gawking, Erik actually seemed flattered.

Well, that wasn’t what T’Challa expected, but considering the alternative reactions, he was thankful. The last thing he needed was for his Baba to hear rumors of his son perversely checking out another man at an off-campus weed and liquor fueled party.

“So, this what you and Nakia been doin’ over here? Just takin’ in the eye-candy?” Erik asked. His voice had taken on a deeper, more seductive tone and T’Challa wondered if this was the voice he used on women. “If you wanted to see the goods, you could’ve just asked.”

“Is that all it takes? A small request to get you out of your clothes?”

Erik shrugged - cocky, sure of himself, and seemingly unbothered by T’Challa’s insinuation that he was easy. “Depends on who’s making the request, you feel me?”

If T’Challa had any doubts that Erik was now flirting with him, that statement paired with his expression spelled out clearly that he was. It was a little surreal since another man, especially one like Erik, had never flirted with him like that; out in the open and unabashed.

T’Challa bit his lip to hide his smile.

“Wonderful, he is still here.” Nakia deadpanned on arrival as she walked past Erik to stand in front of T’Challa. “Are you ready or do you want to stay for a bit longer?”

“I’m ready,” T’Challa said only after sparing Erik a last look.

“Nakia, check that stank attitude of yours,” Erik said as he ran a hand through his dreads. “T’Challa, next time you show up to my party, you better be drinkin'.”

T’Challa stood up and handed Nakia her clutch. He regarded Erik slowly, not missing the way the other man was checking him out. He wasn’t even being subtle or trying to hide it.

“Goodnight, Erik.” Was all he said before he linked arms with Nakia and led her towards the exit. As he walked away, he had an urge to look back to see if Erik was still watching. He chanced a glance back to see that he was indeed still starting at him, his gaze a little heated and playful when they made eye contact again.

“I have never disliked anybody more than that man.” Nakia grumbled, just as T’Challa looked away from Erik. “He is disrespectful, rude, and spoiled. Just like his other footballer friends.”

“Come on, Nakia.” T’Challa chided. “He cannot be that bad.”

“You’ve never had to deal with him,” Nakia fussed. “He was in my group last semester in Sociology. He almost ruined my GPA.”

T’Challa smiled to himself as Nakia drunkenly ranted on about how Erik Stevens was the literal worst. He debated telling her about the way Erik had flirted with him, but ultimately, he decided to keep that piece of information to himself for now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your positive feedback! I changed the chapter amount from 3 to 4. I don't suspect it will go on for more than 4 chapters, but tbh you never know lol.

He ends up seeing Erik a lot more often after their initial meeting at the party. Sometimes, when they see each other, Erik pays him no mind, but other times he smirks at T’Challa in a way that makes his pulse quicken. They never really spoke, and that was fine by T’Challa. The last thing he needed to do was develop a crush on Erik Stevens who, according to Nakia, was the worst.

Beside what Nakia had told him, T’Challa didn’t know much about Erik despite the fact that he played football and his parents, and their late parents, were Civil Rights activists. A big picture of his grandparents confronting a klansman in Alabama hung in one of the campus libraries, and when T’Challa does campus tours with freshmen, he always shows them the picture and mentions the fact that their descendant attends the university.

T’Challa was in that very library when he saw Erik again, for the 5th time. This time, when they made eye contact, Erik approached him. He looked good that day as well. He wore glasses (which probably weren’t prescription) and his jeans sagged, and T’Challa wondered where exactly this crush of his was building from.

“Sup, white knight?” Erik greeted as he came to stop in front of T’Challa and shifted his own stack of books in his hand.

“Erik,” T’Challa greeted him politely. He wasn’t sure if he liked Erik’s new nickname for him or not. Sure, it wasn’t malicious, but it was a sarcastic response to him defending his friend from casual sexism.

“What we lookin’ for?”

T’Challa shrugged. “I’m just killing time before a meeting. I’m not looking for anything.”

Erik chuckled and shook his head. “Killin’ time in a library. You’re stereotypical as hell.”

“And what are you doing here?” T’Challa asked, refusing to let Erik bait him into highschooler ‘haha you’re a nerd’ banter.

“Got a paper due in a few days,” Erik said with a shrug. “Figured I might as well start it.”

“How much is a few days?”

“Like two.”

T’Challa tsked. “That is very irresponsible.”

“Once I pass this class, I really don’t give a fuck. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

“What class is it?”

“Modern European History,” Erik’s voice had become a low grumble. “I don’t give a fuck about none of these people or their so-called accomplishments. This is a waste of my time and my scholarship money.”

“History is important,” T’Challa said, carefully. “If we do not learn about history, we are doomed to repeat it.”

“You think they tell their people about our history?” Erik asked. “Hm? You think their kids learn the truth about what they did to us? How they tortured us? Stole from us? Murdered us?”

T’Challa gave a momentary pause in response to Erik’s sudden anger, but he wasn’t surprised. Everyone on campus knew the story of Erik’s family’s long history of fighting injustice. Everyone knew how his grandparents were beaten and hosed down with harsh water. How the community center his parents attended was burned down in Alabama in the 70s and his father barely escaped with his life.

As if he caught himself being exposed, Erik quickly schooled his features back into something less angry, but T’Challa still caught the burning fire in his eyes before the embers were hidden away. He had some words of comfort for Erik but did not want to overstep his boundaries since this seemed to be a touchy subject for him and they didn’t know each other very well.

Instead, he cleared his throat and offered: “Do you need someone to proofread your paper?”

Honestly, he had no idea why he offered to help. He just felt compelled to. He expected some rejection when Erik took a few seconds to respond, but eventually the other man accepted.

“Sure,” He said as he cocked his brow. “Can’t hurt to have the Dean’s smart as fuck son fix your shitty writing.”

T’Challa smiled and they swapped numbers.

\---

Erik facetimed T’Challa the day his paper was due.

At 4am in the morning.

T’Challa had had a very tiring day and he'd stayed up late the night before studying. He didn’t go to bed until minutes to 2 and the shrill, annoying sound of his phone going off almost made him grab it and toss it across the room. Instead, he gathered whatever wits and strength he had to answer it.

“You sleep?” Erik’s voice rang out in the darkness. “Wake up!”

“It’s an ungodly hour,” T’Challa bemoaned.

“I just finished writin’ my paper. I emailed it to you.”

T’Challa reached for his bedside lamp and flicked it on. He rubbed at his eyes before he stared down at Erik’s smiling face on his phone. “How did you get my email address?”

“It’s on the student ambassador website, genius. Now up! I wanna get this shit over with.”

It only took him a half an hour to go over the paper with Erik. Usually, proofreading essays took him longer because he had to read it once, then read it again to find the mistakes, but this paper flowed so perfectly, and everything was on point from the grammar to the sources. T’Challa wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but this paper wasn’t it.

“Erik, this is an A+ paper, if I may say so myself.” T’Challa said as he closed the word document on his laptop. "I sent you what little changes I made."

“Hopefully my professor thinks so,” Erik grumbled on the videocall. He was laying against the headboard of his bed playing a game. He paused it to look down at the camera in his lap. “This is my second time writin’ this shit. She gave me a failing grade the first time.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t feel like finishing the first time. Coach had to beg her for a second chance.”

T’Challa shook his head. “Nakia was right. You are spoiled.”

“Oh, she been talking about me, huh?” Erik said as he picked the phone up and changed the angle, revealing more of his upper body. “What else she say?”

T’Challa smiled. “Trust me, you’d rather not know.”

Erik pursed his lips, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he looked at T’Challa through the camera for a bit before speaking up again.

“The housemates and I are having a little get together next weekend. You should come through and bring Nakia with you.”

“Are you using me to get Nakia to come to your party?”

“It ain’t a party and I told you already that I’m not interested in her. I actually only mentioned her to get you to come, if we bein’ honest.”

 “I see,” T’Challa said, because he didn’t really know how to respond to that. By the way Erik was looking at him in the near-darkness, it was safe to say the other man was flirting with him again. T’Challa didn’t know if it was his personality or if he was genuinely interested in him. 

“I will see,” he replied nonchalantly, despite his insides twisting up in knots.

“I will see,” Erik mocked in T’Challa’s accent. “What, you need daddy’s permission? Or, worse yet, do you need Nakia’s?”

“No,” T’Challa clarified. “Unlike you, I actually like to work and, you know, earn my grade.”

Erik laughed, then mock-frowned. “Ouch.”

\---

Nakia declined to accompany him because she already had plans. However, she did not hesitate to make it clear that she wasn’t going anyway because Erik had invited them, and she wanted to see as little of him as possible. That was fair.

So, T’Challa went alone, back to the same house that looked a lot different during the day. When he knocked on the door, Erik answered and actually seemed surprised to see him.

“Well, well,” he said as he leaned against the door frame. “You came.”

“I had a free afternoon. Am I going to be let in or are the festivities taking place out here?”

“Yo, why do you talk like that? Loosen the fuck up,” Erik chuckled before he moved out of the way so T’Challa could enter the house. “Festivities? The fuck?”

“So much about me bothers you,” T’Challa entered the house and looked around, taking in everything. The place was moderately decorated, with a few things thrown here and there. Honestly, T’Challa expected worse from a group of guys sharing a house. “Yet, you seem to like me well enough.”

“I may just be using you to get you to proofread all my shit from now on,” Erik said as he closed the door behind them and moved in front of T’Challa to lead the way.

T’Challa smiled and followed him down the hallway and into the livingroom where about a dozen guys and a few girls were all huddled around a PS4 and a huge TV that honestly seemed too big for the space.

“Pretty sure yall know T’Challa,” Erik called out in a dull attempt at an introduction. He pulled out a plastic chair from a stack in the corner of the room and motioned for T’Challa to sit. “Some of these guys are my roommates. The others are freeloading.”

“Fuck you, man!” One of the guys said to Erik before he reached a hand out for T’Challa to give him some daps. “What’s up?”

The rest of the people in the room paid little mind to T’Challa at first after the initial quick introductions and heys. The guys were all too interested in the game in front of them and the women were too busy talking among themselves. Erik left for a while and when he returned, he pulled up a chair next to T’Challa and handed him a cold bottle.

“You ain’t drivin’ tonight, are you?” Erik leaned close into T’Challa’s personal space and spoke above the noise coming from the TV and the overexcited group of guys around them.

“No, I got an Uber here,” T’Challa said as he held out the beer again for Erik to open it. Erik grinned as if he was please by that response and cracked it open.

That beer was the first of many. T’Challa wasn’t much of a drinker. In fact, he could count on only one hand the number of times he's been inebriated, but it was easy to just accept the drinks Erik handed him as he listened to the conversations around him. After a while, the group had begun to interact with him more, which made T’Challa feel more comfortable. At first, he didn’t play the game, but he did cheer them on and trash talk Erik when it was his turn to play.

“You talkin’ a lot of shit for someone who can’t even play,” Erik grumbled after the guy he was playing against killed him and did a victory lap around the crowded living area.

“It doesn’t seem too difficult,” T’Challa said. “You just aim and shoot.”

“Pick up a controller then, pretty boy, and take this asswhoppin’.”

T’Challa grinned at the nickname and accepted the controller someone tossed his way.

“My money’s on you, T’Challa,” one of the girls said and she and her friends giggled when he turned to smile at her.

T’Challa took a last swig from his beer in preparation before he chose his character on screen. He’d played games before, of course. Just because his parents put education first doesn’t mean they depraved him of a normal childhood and teenage years. When he first came to America, his Baba bought him a PlayStation for getting good grades. Since that initial purchase, it was his mother that took over buying him his gaming consoles up until T’Challa started earning his own money to buy his own. When he started at the university, he became so busy with studying and the various clubs he enrolled in that he had no time left to play.

He assumed, incorrectly, that it was like riding a bike.

It was not, and he promptly got his ass handed to him. Now it was Erik’s turn to do a victory lap and obnoxiously congratulate himself. 

“I’m drunk,” T’Challa used as a poor excuse when he lost the rematch as well. He was not drunk. He was buzzed, but he could recite his Comm 5 textbook in his mind, so he assumed his brain was still functioning correctly.

“BulllllllSHIT,” Erik snapped, and everyone laughed. T’Challa was pleased when he realized that everyone, including Erik, was laughing with him and not at him.

\---

A few hours later, he ended up on the couch, sandwiched between Erik and the girl who had been stealing glances at him all afternoon. She was gorgeous, with long red braids and shimmery dark skin. Her smile was flirtatious and kind, and when she finally spoke to him, T’Challa couldn’t help glancing down at her red lips every now and then. On the other side of him sat Erik who was very engrossed and involved with the conversations around him, but sometimes he’d lean to talk to T'Challa. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but having Erik this close for so long, hearing his laugh and feeling the warm press of his thigh against his kinda made T’Challa feel warm all over. The beautiful girl next to him getting progressively closer with her lowcut top didn’t help much, either.

“Excuse me for a moment,” T’Challa said as he got up and set his beer down on the coffee table next to his growing set of empty bottles. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Down the hall,” one of Erik’s roommates offered as he pointed vaguely in the direction of what T’Challa assumed was the location of the bathroom. “Just keep walking, you’ll see it.”

When T’Challa stood up, the room spun for a while, but he was able to make it to the bathroom without falling. He wasn’t _that_ drunk, per say, but he’d had enough. After he washed his hands, he splashed some cold water on his face and promised himself he’d deny any future beers from Erik.

When he opened the bathroom door to make his exit, he almost jumped in shock to see the other man standing there. Erik was grinning, and it made him look nefarious, which did funny, strange things to T’Challa’s insides.

“So, Chanel’s feelin’ you,” Erik started as he leaned against the doorframe, mirroring the stance he had earlier by the front door. T’Challa wondered if he had some _thing_ for trapping people in place.

“Chanel?” T’Challa asked.

“Fine honey with the red hair,” Erik explained. “She told me she was interested.”

“Oh!” T’Challa said, realization dawning on him. “Oh…”

Erik bit his bottom lip and smiled wider. “She’s down for getting into some stuff, if you are.” There was a momentary silence before Erik rolled his eyes and spelled it out clearly, “She’s tryna fuck, man.”

T’Challa winced. “I know what you meant the first time, it’s just…”

Erik waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. I told her you weren’t interested.”

T’Challa almost said ‘oh god thank you’, but instead he went with, “Why?”

“Because I’m the one you’re interested in, right?” Erik asked in a conversational tone, as if it was no big deal. As if he knew the answer to his own question already.

T’Challa was rarely at a loss for words. He always had a comeback or a response ready, but then and there, he definitely struggled with a reply. Mainly because admitting that, yeah, he was interested could lead down an assortment of slippery slopes. For one, Erik could call him a slur and react violently and T’Challa had an incident like that in high school that he would hate to repeat. Then again, Erik could also be into him as well, but where would that lead?

“You been checking me out since the party,” Erik closed the door behind them before he advanced on him and T’Challa took an involuntary step back. "Lookin' at me like you want somethin' over here," Erik glanced down at T'Challa's feet which were moving away, and he huffed out a breath that sounded vaguely like a laugh. He looked up at T’Challa again and moved – no, swaggered – closer. “I’m not one to beat around the bush, so you need to tell me right now if I'm reading this shit wrong.”

“I-,” T’Challa tried to speak, but his throat was suddenly dry. The other man was now close enough for T’Challa to smell his aftershave. His liquor-loose tongue spoke for him before he could stop himself. “You’re not wrong.”

Erik smiled, baring his teeth and the gold canines in his mouth. T'Challa stared at them and wondered if they were sharp. If they'd leave marks.

T’Challa’s ass was pressed against the counter when Erik began practically leaning over him. They were about the same height, but somehow, he seemed taller. Erik braced a hand next to him on the counter, and T’Challa suddenly felt drunker than he did a few minutes ago.

There was a sudden knock on the door and T’Challa jumped, knocking over the toothpaste and hand soap from the counter. One of Erik's hands reached out to grab his waist and he held him still.

“I gotta pee!” Someone whined from outside and Erik sighed and ran his free hand through his dreads in mild irritation at being interrupted.

“Ocupado! Use the other bathroom!” Erik called out and the person outside groaned and, presumably, went away.

“Now,” Erik turned back to him and allowed T’Challa little bit of space, but he still stayed close. “You down for some fun tonight or what?”


	3. Chapter 3

Erik’s room was an interesting reflection of the man himself, as rooms usually are. He had numerous posters and wall art of rappers like Kendrick, Tupac, and J Cole. He also had a few posters of movies and tv shows, some T’Challa had recognized and some he didn’t. And, right above his bed, was a large wall decal of Malcolm X with the words ‘The price of freedom is death’ below it.

T’Challa sat on the edge of the bed and stared up at Malcolm wondering how the hell he got here. Well, he knew how he got _here_ in Erik’s room specifically. Erik had asked him if he wanted to have ‘fun’, and T’Challa did, but he didn’t reply right away.

“You can wait for me in my room if you are,” Erik had suggested before T’Challa could muster up the brain capacity to answer him. He then gave T’Challa directions to his room and left him standing there in the bathroom to have a crisis. The crisis felt like it lasted forever, but it was really closer to about five minutes. Five minutes of having an internal debate on if having his very first one-night stand with _Erik Stevens_ was a good idea. Five minutes of convincing himself that it was about time he lived a little. Nakia did say that he needed to go out more and start seeing people again. He was positive, however, that Erik Stevens wasn’t what she had in mind.

Erik joined him after fifteen agonizing minutes of T’Challa just sitting there on the bed staring at the wall and trying to convince himself not to back out. He was draining the last of his beer when he entered the room and he threw the empty bottle in the trash near the door.

“If I’m gonna be honest,” Erik shut the door behind him. “I’m surprised you didn’t flake on me.”

“Maybe you should not judge me so easily,” T’Challa said, and it caused he other man to smile and raise his eyebrows.

“I see that.”

He approached T’Challa, kicking his Adidas slide-ons off along the way, and T’Challa only had a second to think that this was real, this was really, really real, before Erik’s palm was on his chest, pushing him until he was laid back against the sheets.

T’Challa opened his mouth to speak, but Erik’s lips were suddenly there against his, claiming his mouth in an unexpected, aggressive kiss. T’Challa’s eyes widened for a while before he closed them and just went with it. He’d only kissed two people in his life, most recently Nakia. But, even though there were flames behind her kisses, it didn’t hold a candle to the wildfire intensity of the one he shared with Erik now.

T’Challa was thrown into the deep end, and he decided that even though this was unfamiliar territory, he’d be damned if he sank.

Erik ground his hips down and T’Challa felt his hardness against his thigh. A moan escaped his throat and Erik swallowed it greedily as his hands reached the hem of T’Challa’s sweater, pulling it and the t-shirt under it over his head. T’Challa used the moment to break the kiss and take a breather. His head was spinning by how abrupt everything was moving, but the more Erik touched him and _looked_ at him like that, the more the internal question of if he should really do this subsided.

“You ever been fucked before?” Erik asked against T’Challa’s lips as his hands reached for the other man’s belt buckle. T’Challa unconsciously shifted his hips up when Erik unzipped his jeans and slipped a hand inside without hesitation. “I’m takin’ your silence as a no.”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I’m slow responding,” T’Challa sighed as he closed his eyes when he felt Erik brush his fingers over his underwear and across his quickly hardening length. “Obviously, my brain is preoccupied.”

To be honest, T’Challa was silent because, yes, he’d had intercourse with another man before, but it wasn’t very good. He was in high school and neither of them knew what they were doing. It was a mess of too much lube and not enough experience and it was awkward for both parties. He didn’t want to explain that to Erik, however, so he just said, “Yes, I have.”

Erik smirked, “Really? You been givin’ it up around campus?”

“What?” T’Challa opened his eyes and sighed as Erik began stroking his cock slowly. “No-” 

“I mean, I did get you to come up here with no problem at all,” Erik mused, his voice lazy and slightly mocking. “You easy, T?”

“Don’t be crude.”

“Crude is all I know how to be,” Erik replied as he removed his hand from T’Challa’s boxers. “Besides, it’s 2018 and we’re grown ass men. It’s not a big deal if you a secret thot.”

Erik moved back to take off his own clothes and T’Challa glared at him.

“I’m well aware that sexual openness is not ‘a big deal’,” T’Challa was mildly irritated, but he felt his negative feelings melting away again when Erik got rid of his shirt and flashed him a grin. T’Challa wondered if he was used to getting away with things because he was so, so very attractive. “But, I assure you, I barely have time to sleep around.”

When Erik returned to the bed clad with only his boxer briefs, he made quick work of the rest of T’Challa’s clothes. T’Challa tried to do it for himself, but the other man batted his hands away. Erik looked at him like he was unwrapping a present as he got rid of his jeans. His eyes drank in every exposed area of his body. T’Challa wasn’t self-conscious, so he didn’t mind.

When Erik had him stripped nearly all the way down, he moved away from him and reached into his underwear. He had a lazy, self-assured smirk on his face when he pulled out his cock, which was already half-hard. It was thicker than T’Challa’s and curved up. The head was moist and when Erik stroked it a few times, the moisture spread along the shaft and T’Challa stared at the scene in front of him with equal parts excitement, nervousness, and fascination.

“We movin’ too fast?” Erik asked as he tucked the waistband of his underwear under his balls and rubbed a hand over his abs.

‘Yes,’ T’Challa wanted to say, ‘But I want us to.’

He didn’t know why, but he suspected it was because he didn’t want to hesitate. He wanted to move at Erik’s pace. He wanted to give up control.

Instead of saying that, he shook his head, and when that didn’t seem like enough consent for Erik, he lifted his gaze from the other man’s cock to lock eyes with him through his lashes. “No. I’m fine. This is fine, Erik.”

Erik bit his lip and moved until he was close enough to reach out and grip T’Challa’s short hair. He pulled his head back, exposing T’Challa’s throat as he stared down at him, something primal and fiery behind his eyes. With his free hand, the one that was just stroking his cock, he brushed the pad of his thumb against T’Challa’s bottom lip. T’Challa opened his mouth so the finger could slip inside, and the movement seemed the please Erik based on the way he moaned deep in his throat.

“Anyone ever fuck your pretty mouth before?” Erik asked as removed his spit-coated finger and replaced it with the head of his dick. “Or am I about to be the first?”

T’Challa felt his cheeks heating up at the language Erik used. He felt humiliated, but not degraded. He couldn’t comprehend it, but it felt good, so he did not object.

“I’ve never –” He paused to swallow and lick his lips nervously, lightly brushing Erik’s dick with the tip of his tongue in the process.

“It’s cool,” Erik said, his voice rough. “We got all night to bring you up to par.”

As first blowjobs go, it wasn’t terribly humiliating, which T’Challa was thankful for. He was clueless at first, but Erik was a formidable teacher and T’Challa was a fast learner. He was enthusiastic, yet pliant, letting Erik guide him the way he wanted at first, then taking the initiative when Erik gave him more leeway. He paid attention to what Erik liked and what made the other man’s grip tighten in his hair. For instance, Erik liked when T’Challa licked just under the head and when he got to cocky and tried to take too much and gag a little. He liked when T’Challa looked at up at him as he licked down the shaft and he liked when his teeth accidentally got in the way.

Erik left him messy when he pulled his dick out of his mouth to come on his chest and lips. He watched Erik groan and curse and shake as he came all over him and all T’Challa could think was. ‘I did that’.

Erik kissed him after, despite the mess, and it’s filthy, unhygienic, and hot and T’Challa felt close to coming himself before Erik even sank to his knees in front of him.

* * *

 

Casual sex was never an idea T’Challa entertained. He was far too busy. He was a part of numerous activities and clubs on campus, including being the head of student ambassadors and student affairs. He also helped now and then with on-campus tutoring, and even when he was up to his eyeballs in work, he couldn’t turn down anyone who genuinely wanted help with their academics. Which is why he found it surprising that he _made_ time to screw around with Erik. There was something about Erik that demanded his attention. Something that made T’Challa keep going back to Erik’s house or keep inviting him back to his dorm room.

It was truly casual at first: Erik would text him to see if he was free and if he was, they’d meet up. Afterwards, T’Challa would be on his way, feeling relaxed and destressed. Although he was fond of Erik, he knew that what they were doing was purely sexual and physical. He had no illusions of courtship or long walks or getting to know each other.

As time went on, however, they began to talk more, usually about anything. He quickly discovered that Erik was secretly very intelligent and wise beyond his years. The man knew information about everything and could debate any topic, from who was the hottest popstar to the three main theories of sociology to Freudianism. One day, T’Challa made the mistake of asking Erik about his Malcolm X decal that always stared down at them as they messed around. Erik had crawled up from between his legs and just settled there. He studied T’Challa for a long time as if he was searching for something. Whatever he was looking for, he found it, and he began to talk.

“I admire him,” Erik said as he rested his chin on T’Challa’s sweaty chest. “I admire his stance on racism, on white America,” he paused for a while, his eyes getting that molten glint T’Challa had seen in the library. “I admire his stance on using violence as a way to free ourselves. My dad told me that when he and my moms first started dating as young teens, they argued all the time about the shit Malcolm X used to teach. Mom thought his preaching was too violent and that things could be fixed with time, dialogue, and all that other shit. She changed her mind when them white people tried to burn her, my dad, and a bunch of other black kids alive though. Can you imagine her rage after seeing my father laying in a hospital bed, scarred up and shit? He was only a fucking kid.”

There was sadness in Erik’s eyes, but he laughed. It sounded wrong. Like it was twisted and forced out of him.

“She was always a light, though. She burned real bright. She didn’t let her anger consume her like it did my dad,” Erik paused to sniff, but he wasn’t crying. “Like it consumes me sometimes, you know?”

T’Challa raised his hand to hesitantly card it through Erik’s hair in an attempt to comfort him. Erik gave him an ambiguous expression before he relaxed again.

“I get it,” T’Challa said. He did not agree with Erik’s stance on violence, but he understood his anger and his pain. He understood his father’s pain, and his mother’s, too. “I understand.”

Erik’s phone buzzed on the side table, but he ignored it in favor of leaning up to kiss T’Challa’s lips. When he pulled back, T’Challa’s heart leapt and it was then he realized that this wasn’t casual anymore. Not for him.

* * *

 

Erik fucks T’Challa for the first time after his final football game of the season. Before then, the extent of their sexual activities had been blowjobs, sometimes handjobs, and one time when they were too keyed up to make it out of their clothes, frottage.

T’Challa wasn’t there to witness it, but their team had won their game. Erik was on level ten, as cocky and ecstatic as ever when he showed up at T’Challa’s dorm room a couple hours after the game. When T’Challa answered the door, he barely had time to register what was going on before Erik was on him.

“Erik!” T’Challa grinned, trying to pry Erik off of him, but the other man wasn’t budging. “Erik, shh, it’s late. I have a presentation tom-”

“I wish you were there to watch me at my game so I could show off for you,” Erik said into his neck as he kicked the door close behind them.

T’Challa sighed when Erik’s hands made their way under his sweatshirt to rub at his nipples. “Would you like a prize for your victory, Mr. Stevens?”

“I want to fuck you,” Erik said as he pushed T’Challa up against his desk, scattering the text books and stationary everywhere. “You gonna let me fuck you, T?”

T’Challa knew he was playing with fire here. He worried about becoming too intimate with Erik because he knew it would only lead to heartbreak eventually. But Erik pressed closer and kissed him, snipping his worrisome thoughts in the bud. He felt himself getting warm and he couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to finally let Erik inside him, touching the most intimate part of his body.

“Yes,” T’Challa said as Erik pulled his sweater over his head. “Yes.”

* * *

 

Erik took his time preparing him, fingering him for what felt like hours until T’Challa was an oversensitive mess, whimpering and squirming in his sheets. Until he felt like he was going to burn from the inside out. When he decided T’Challa was ready or that he’d tortured the other man enough, he finally, finally slicked up his condom covered dick and guided himself inside of T’Challa’s loosened, wet hole.

It burned, but it was a good hurt and T’Challa relished in the slight pain as Erik began to fuck him, slowly at first to get them both used to the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re tight as hell,” Erik said, his voice strained. “It’s like this ass was made for me.”

“Erik,” T’Challa felt a stirring in his stomach and he squeezed his eyes shut. No, it was too soon. Erik was about twenty strokes in and he already felt an orgasm rising up. He fisted his hands in the sheets below him and tried to warn Erik again. “Erik, I’m –”

“You’re gonna come already?” Erik laughed, sounding incredulous, and the white-hot shame that T’Challa felt drove him over the edge. His cock twitched twice and began to spurt come on the sheets below them. “Oh, fuck! Fuck yeah, T, get that shit.”

T’Challa was still coming when Erik pushed his chest down on the bed and used both of his hands to heft his ass up higher. He dug his nails into the meat of T’Challa’s thighs and sped up, grinding T’Challa’s sensitive dick into the mess he made below them.

“Damn, you felt good coming on my dick,” Erik leaned over to growl in T’Challa’s ear. “Wish you could see yourself now. I wish everyone can see you now, Mr. Perfect. Coming for me before I even really get started.”

T’Challa moaned at the words and rolled his hips back, clenching down and squeezing Erik’s dick in a weak attempt to get some semblance of an upper hand.

“Oh, shit!” Erik gasped and reared back. He laid a threatening hand on one of T’Challa’s ass cheeks and slowed his thrusts. “Don’t try to play this game, baby boy, because I guarantee you that Imma win.”

T’Challa smiled over his shoulder and moved his hips back again, reveling in the blissed-out expression on Erik’s face. “If you’re so sure about your capabilities, then you wouldn’t mind a little competition.”

Erik rose to the challenge, bearing his teeth and flashing his gold canines. T’Challa’s pulse quickened at the sight of them and, in that moment, he wanted Erik to bite him. He wanted him to sink his golden teeth in his skin and leave his visible mark on him. He wanted Erik to leave an imprint where people could see and wonder who left those marks on the golden boy. He’d never had these wild, debauched thoughts before. Not with the boy in high school. Not with Nakia.

Erik’s pace quickened and T’Challa had to look away from his face because he refused to come again before Erik did. He needed Erik to come inside him.

It wasn’t long before T’Challa felt a hand grip the back of his neck and Erik’s rhythm got sloppy and jerky. He reached back to grab one of Erik’s thighs, to encourage him.

Erik’s hips began snapping faster, causing the filthy sounds of their bodies slapping together to echo around the room. “Tell me you want me to come inside this ass.”

T’Challa moaned at the words and the feeling of Erik’s dick brushing somewhere hot and sacred inside him. The pleasure was so blindingly good that he almost came again on the spot, but he held it together, just by the thinnest thread.

“Please, Erik,” he moaned as he dug his blunt nails into the other man’s thigh. “Come inside me. I want to feel you, Erik-!”

“S-Shit!” Erik’s thrusts stuttered and his hips jerked as his orgasm washed over him. T’Challa sighed and ran a soothing hand over the crescent marks he left on Erik’s thigh as he moved his hips slowly, milking the last of Erik’s orgasm out of him.

After he’d come down, Erik moved his hand from the back of T’Challa’s neck and instead used it to cup and maneuver the other man’s face. He bent down to kiss him, slow with all tongue, before he pulled back. Before T’Challa could do anything, he pulled out carefully and removed the condom before tying it and tossing it in the wastebasket near the bed.

T’Challa allowed Erik to move him until he was laying flat on his back, and he watched with heavy lidded eyes as Erik dipped his head down to take his cock into his mouth. It didn’t take long for T’Challa to come again and when he did, Erik caught it all in his mouth and licked up whatever remained on his stomach from his first orgasm.

“Not a bad victory gift, if I do say so myself,” Erik said as he moved up T’Challa’s body to kiss his lips. It was a gentler kiss this time and T’Challa could taste his come on the other man’s lips. It was dizzyingly erotic.

When Erik pulled away, T’Challa stopped him by grabbing a handful of his dreads. “Not bad? I’d say it was damn better than ‘not bad’.”

“Maybe I need an encore to decide,” Erik teased, looking at T’Challa like he was the hottest fucking thing on Earth. It boosted his confidence something terrible. “Unless I wore that ass out and you’re ready to tap out after one round.”

T’Challa tugged on his dreads harder for good measure and Erik groaned, his eyes narrowing to slits at the rough treatment.

“Keep hurtin’ me like that and you’ll bring out a part of me you ain’t ready for.”

“Who says I’m not ready for it?” T’Challa mumbled as Erik shifted to lay beside him. “Haven’t you learned your lesson about doubting me?”

Erik hummed, closed his eyes, and smiled. He looked exhausted, and T’Challa studied his face for a while before he felt like he had to look away. “You may sleep here if you want,” he offered as he got up, wincing at the sting in his ass.

“Where you goin’?” Erik asked as he opened his eyes again to look at T’Challa.

“To clean up and then finish practicing my presentation.”

“Man, if you don’t get your ass back over here.”

“Erik, I –”

“T, come on. This dick is supposed to put you to sleep! You know what it does to my ego that you’re moving around and shit?”

“If it’s any consolation, my legs are very wobbly.” T’Challa rolled his eyes when Erik patted the bed, but when the other man reached out, he relented. When he got close enough, Erik grabbed him and pulled him down onto his chest.

“Imma take a nap,” Erik said as he settled in again. “When I wake up, you can practice your presentation on me.”

“Very well,” T’Challa said, hiding his smile.

He hesitantly laid his head on Erik’s chest and closed his eyes when the other man shifted to entwine their legs. When Erik began to snore, he let out a shaky breath and reminded himself that, yes, he had feelings for Erik, and yes, he was fucked.

He was very, _very_ fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

T’Challa was having brunch with his family when his mother brought up Nakia. Ramonda was very fond of Nakia and their breakup troubled her, but she respected that young love doesn’t last forever. It didn’t deter her from continuing her motherly relationship with Nakia and hoping that they would rekindle their romance, however.

“I haven’t seen Nakia in many moons,” she stated as she looked across the table at her son. “T’Challa, you must invite her to dinner soon.”

“I will, mother,” T’Challa promised and hoped that was the end of it, but then his mother spoke up again.

“I’d always hoped that you two would find your way back to each other,” she smiled coyly and T’Challa sighed. “She’s such a nice girl.”

His father, T’Chaka, nodded in agreement and paused to wipe his mouth before adding to the conversation, “I still think letting her go was an unwise decision, and for some time, I assumed you felt the same.”

“Nakia and I are better off as close friends,” T’Challa explained, for the millionth time. “Our separation hurt us both, but her wants did not align with mine. Why tie her down when she wants to explore and be free?”

“T’Challa has been spending his time with Erik Stevens,” his sister said mockingly, singing Erik’s name like a lover’s swoon. “He has no time for Nakia.”

His mother frowned slightly. “Who?”

“Erik Stevens?” His father asked. “You’ve made his acquaintance?”

T’Challa glared at Shuri. He’d mentioned Erik to her once. He usually spent his weekends home since it was only a 45-minute drive from campus. When he was home, Shuri and her friends used him as their personal Uber. One day she asked him for a ride to see some concert and T’Challa declined and said that he was going to meet up with Erik. He didn’t know what expression was on his face when he said it, but Shuri immediately knew Erik wasn’t just a regular friend. His sister was perceptive like that, and sometimes it amazed T’Challa. Other times, it annoyed the hell out of him.

“Yes, Baba,” T’Challa said as he busied himself with buttering a croissant. “I met him while out with Nakia and we’ve spent some time together.” The bite mark Erik left on his thigh last night throbbed accusingly and T’Challa shifted in his chair.

“His name has crossed my desk a number of times,” His father said, his face blatantly showing his disapproval. “He is a distraction, T’Challa. He’s barely passing his classes and is very close to academic probation.”

“He’s actually very intelligent,” T’Challa asserted. He tried to seem nonchalant, but he worried that he’d failed.

“He does a poor job of showing it. He is only attending the University on a football scholarship and he will lose that if his behavior continues. That is someone I strongly prefer you not spend time with.”

T’Challa considered arguing, but he decided against it. He just wanted the conversation to move on. A small voice in his head berated him for being so afraid of his father’s disapproval that he didn’t defend Erik more.

* * *

 

After brunch, T’Chaka invited him to his study to talk. His father’s study was a vast room in the basement of his parents’ home. It was decorated with different African artifacts, mainly from Wakanda. Behind his father’s desk was a wall full of proof of his father’s accomplishments. Certificates, awards, and degrees stared down at T’Challa every day, reminding him that the world had grand expectations of him and his father’s shadow was big enough to get lost in. Despite this, T’Challa admired his father. He looked up to him and aspired to be half of the man he was.

Which was why, when his father sat him down and said to him, “I want to be clear that your unnatural urges from your teenage years have stayed there,” T’Challa’s heart broke.

His Baba didn’t disown him when he caught T’Challa kissing his classmate all those years ago, but the look in his eyes was sad and repulsed enough for T’Challa to think that he would stop loving him. T’Chaka had held him when he cried and assured him that he was his son, his light, and nothing would make him stop loving him. Not even this unnatural attraction to other men. Not even that.

His father was so happy when he brought Nakia home one day to announce that they were together. He thought he was back to normal.

“Be honest with me, my son,” T'Chaka said, as he watched T’Challa with sad, begging eyes. “This relationship you have with Erik Stevens… it is purely platonic?”

T’Challa thought about how just that morning Erik had seen him off with a kiss, and how an hour before that he’d sat T’Challa on his face as a reward for passing his Philosophy project with flying colors the day before.

Erik’s bite mark on his thigh throbbed again.

“It isn't,” T’Challa admitted in a rush. He felt so ashamed. He felt guilty when his father closed his eyes in disappointment. Why did he feel like he’d done something wrong when he knew that he didn’t? “What I admitted to you in high school was not a phase, Baba. It is who I am.”

His father was quiet for a long time and T’Challa’s throat felt thick with sorrow. His father looked up at him again and T’Challa was almost relieved to see no hate there, only sadness and disappointment. T’Challa would rather his father be angry than disappointed. He felt tears well up in his eyes.

“After Nakia, I’d hoped you…” His father paused, and T’Challa could hear the unspoken, ‘ _I’d hoped you’d been fixed_ ’. “T’Challa, my son, think of your future. Nakia is a strong, beautiful Wakandan woman. One of the brightest students in the university and, one day, she will make a man very proud to have her by his side. Be that man, T’Challa!” His father sounded determined and convincing. T’Challa wanted nothing but to please him. To make him proud of him again. To stop looking at him like he was a mistake.

* * *

 

He ran to Nakia when he left his parents’ house. He didn’t know why he went straight to her, but he needed to see her. He needed to talk to her. Nakia was always so calm and calculating, just like T’Challa. But that day he felt frayed around the edges and heartbroken. He was assured that her sound advice was what he needed.

She met him at the campus café as soon as she could. She’d rushed over, probably panicked by the despondent sound of his voice. T’Challa realized that he’d never been this negatively emotional in front of anyone but his parents.

“Something is bothering you, T’Challa,” She stated after T’Challa tried and failed to play catch-up and make small talk. “And you have been distant. Is everything alright?”

Nakia and T’Challa never kept secrets from one another. Not when they were friends and not when they were intimate. She was his best friend, and even when they spent time apart after their breakup, their connection was undeniable. Now that she was outright questioning him, he felt horrible for keeping the situation with Erik to himself.

“I have been sleeping with Erik Stevens,” he said quietly, staring down at the disposable cup of coffee in front of him.

Nakia laughed at first and she seemed to relax because he was joking with her. He had to be, right? _Him_? With _Erik_? T’Challa watched her and waited for the realization to dawn on her face and when it did, it was quickly replaced by anger.

“What?!” She hissed as she leaned closer to rest her elbows on the table. “H-how? When?”

“We started a few weeks after the party,” T’Challa explained, his eyes downcast, avoiding her disappointed eyes like a coward. “The one you took me to.”

“T’Challa that was 2 months ago!” Nakia snapped, and then lowered her voice when people turned to stare at them. “That’s why you’ve been distant? You’ve been with _him_?”

“Nakia, I apologize, but I just wanted to keep this to myself for a little while,” T’Challa explained. “And… I was unsure of what what your reaction would be.”

“I would not care if it was someone else, T’Challa,” Nakia sighed and her anger seemed to deflate out of her, but she still looked apprehensive. “Our relationship ended. I expected and encouraged you to move on, but with _him_?”

“Nakia, he’s more than you think. So much more,” T’Challa said. “And it’s not serious. It’s casual.”

Nakia’s eyes widened and she rolled her eyes and exclaimed in Xhosa.

“Shuri mentioned him in front of Baba today and he questioned me about him,” T’Challa took a sip of his coffee and tried to put the image of his father’s disappointed face out of his head. “I couldn’t lie to him.”

Nakia’s eyes became sympathetic and she reached out to hold his hand across the table. “What did he have to say?”

T’Challa shook his head, not wanting to replay and repeat the conversation. Nakia squeezed his hand in understanding and T’Challa caught her eyes across the table. He knew that his father was right about her. Nakia was an amazing woman and would make an ideal wife and mother one day, if she chose that path for herself. She was someone that would support him no matter what and would be at his side on dark days like today. And even now when they’re not together, she looks at him with so much love and affection that T’Challa entertains the idea of settling with her one day.

Settling.

Settling wasn’t love.

He loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her. But did that really matter?

“T’Challa,” Nakia said gently. “Is it casual for you? This relationship with Erik.”

“No,” T’Challa admitted without hesitation because he couldn’t lie. Not to Nakia.

“He slept with a friend of mine,” Nakia’s voice was gentle, as if T’Challa needed to be let down softly. “A few weeks back. He hasn’t called her back, but she said that she saw him with another woman, right before the last game of the season. I don’t know if he was involved with that woman, but needless to say, I’ve been drying my friend’s eyes since.”

Right before the last game of the season. Right before he’d given himself to Erik completely for the first time and he’d started this downward spiral into heartbreak.

T’Challa was expecting there to be other people, but the news still stung.

“Undoubtedly, you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but I don’t want you to get hurt,” Nakia said quietly. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“Do not worry yourself, Nakia,” T’Challa assured her with more confidence than he felt. “I won’t let him.”

* * *

 

He meets up with Erik a few days later.

Erik was trying to initiate sex with him, but he wasn’t feeling it. His mind was full of too many negatives, and Erik’s persistence only served to both worry and irritate him.

He was laying in Erik’s bed and the other man was kissing his thigh, having worked his way up from his ankle. When he noticed that T’Challa wasn’t reacting in his usual enthusiastic gusto, he paused.

“Wassup? You tired tonight, or what?”

T’Challa shook his head, but that was a lie. He was exhausted. He’d thrown himself into this classwork and campus activities. Anything to make him stop thinking about Erik’s other partners, his ridiculous feelings, and his father’s disappointment.

“What’s buggin’ you?” Erik asked as he began to massage T’Challa’s thigh. “I guarantee you I can fuck your worries away with no problem.”

Usually Erik’s crass language would be oddly endearing, just like everything else about him was, but this time, it caused T’Challa’s annoyance to bubble over.

“Erik, have you had sex with anyone since we started… this?”

Erik paused his ministrations and cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he replied after a beat like it was no big deal.

T’Challa supposed that of course it wasn’t a big deal to him. This between them wasn’t a big deal to him. He had no right to be angry at Erik because it wasn’t supposed to be serious. Erik didn’t do anything wrong. He kept things casual. It was T’Challa and his bleeding heart that had to go and get himself caught up.

“I see,” he replied because he didn’t know what else to say.

Erik left his leg alone and instead shifted to lay next to him on the bed. He was smirking now, and T’Challa narrowed his eyes at him wondering what was so funny. Erik’s hand ran up his side and he rumbled low in his throat. He cupped T’Challa’s clenching jaw and turned his head until they were face to face.

“You jealous, T?” He asked, low and sinful, as he stared into T’Challa’s eyes, taking in his angry expression. “I kinda like that shit. You look real sexy right now.”

T’Challa knocked Erik’s hand away and moved to get out of the bed. He needed to leave. He couldn’t deal with Erik talking to him like this right now. Before he could get too far away, however, Erik grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“What you mad for?” He asked, seemingly growing excited at pushing T’Challa’s buttons. “You don’t gotta worry about these other bitches. They don’t throw it back as good as you do.”

That caused T’Challa’s disgust to hit critical levels and he pushed Erik away firmly as he got up and started putting his clothes back on.

“T’Challa, what the hell?” Erik asked, looking genuinely confused. T’Challa then wondered how the hell he couldn’t read his expression to see his hurt and discomfort. Or maybe he did see how upset T’Challa was but didn’t care.

“I have to go,” T’Challa said quietly as he zipped up his hoodie, which was actually Erik’s hoodie that the other man had loaned him when he’d left his house on a morning that was too cold for just a t-shirt. “I need-” He didn’t even know what he needed. Space? Distance? For Erik to want him for more than sex? For Erik to love him back? “I need a break from this.”

Erik narrowed his eyes at him then sighed. He looked annoyed instead of concerned and that got T’Challa’s feet moving. He walked past Erik’s housemates on the way out, ignoring them when they tried to speak to him. His face was hot as he wondered how many people have been in and out of Erik’s room like clockwork. He must look so stupid to his housemates.

As he started his car, his phone buzzed, and Erik’s contact name and picture popped up on his screen. He ignored it as he pulled out of the driveway and began his trip home.

* * *

 

T’Challa didn’t speak to Erik for two weeks. For the first week, Erik called him twice, but he stopped trying to contact him after that. T’Challa felt like a coward, but he wasn’t ready to face Erik again.

Instead, he threw himself into his work, filling up his free time with tutoring students and helping his father prepare for the upcoming annual fundraiser for young inner-city athletes and academic achievers. This year, The Starks were going to be in attendance. Howard Stark was the founder of Stark Industries and very, _very_ wealthy. After a car accident claimed the life of his wife and left him in the hospital for weeks, Howard began pouring a substantial portion of his money into doing good and promoting change. His attendance at the fundraiser guaranteed that they would be getting a sizeable donation and he could maybe be swayed enough to support them every year.

T’Challa was tasked with presenting the opening introductory speech. Public speaking was always his high point and it was something both he and his father excelled in. T’Challa delivered the speech with grace that emphasized the importance of the fundraiser and its cause. Some of the school’s top students were invited, as well as the sports teams, and T’Challa scanned the audience, seeking out Erik, but he wasn’t there. It made T’Challa feel relieved, but also disappointed.

After the speeches and introductions, T’Challa and his parents made their way around the large room, mingling with everyone and thanking them for coming. It wasn’t long until they caught up with Mr. Stark. Howard shook T’Challa’s and his father’s hands and kissed his mother’s delicately, which made her smile.

“I must say, it is an honor to finally be meeting you,” Howard’s excitement seemed genuine and T’Challa was pleased. Howard was a genius, an innovator and inventor ahead of his time, and to have him here, willing to help them encourage black youth to aspire to be more. It was something. “I’ve read your books on education. Wonderful stuff!”

His father laughed, looking humbled. “And I’ve followed your career for many years, Mr. Stark. You’re one of the most brilliant minds of today!”

This launched a discussion about the state of education in America and how it varied from inner-city to suburban and upper-class areas. T’Challa could listen to them speak forever. He listened to the conversation between the two men and his mother, adding his own inputs now and then when asked. They’d started speaking about state-wide education budget cuts when his father suddenly paused and looked over T’Challa’s shoulder. T’Chaka’s expression remained neutral, but T’Challa did not miss the slight irritation that flickered in his eyes. He turned around to see none other than Erik approaching them and T’Challa’s stomach filled with dread.

Erik was dressed for the occasion in an all-black suit. His dreads were braided back and T’Challa felt pathetic for wondering which one of his women did that for him. Seeing Erik again after a short two weeks was too soon. Erik, showing up to the event looking amazing, ripped open his partially healed wounds.

“Mr. Stevens,” T'Chaka greeted him flatly.

Erik was smiling, and it looked sardonic. T’Challa swallowed thickly and glanced at his parents nervously. This was going to be a mess. He knew it.

“Sup with you?” Erik asked, and T’Challa wanted to bury himself then and there. Why did Erik have to be… himself? Why couldn’t he at least pretend to be civilized? “I heard you were gonna be here, Mr. Stark.”

“Mr. Stark, this is Erik Stevens,” T'Chaka interjected, offering an introduction to Howard. “He’s one of our star players on the football team.”

“Oh?” Howard perked up in interest. “Football is my favorite sport. You know, I tried encouraging my son to play football, but he prefers to build robots.”

The group laughed politely, including Erik.

“Sounds like my daughter, Shuri. She is only interested in building and teenage pop stars. My T’Challa would not pick up a sport, either,” Ramonda said. “He was interested in his studies.”

At the mention of his name, Erik turned to look at him. His face was blank, but there was something behind his eyes. Something T’Challa couldn’t place. He opened his mouth to ask if he and Erik could be excused so they could go talk in private, but Erik turned away from him and spoke up before he could.

“Mr. Stark, I been studyin’ your work for years,” Erik said. He seemed excited, but T’Challa knew him well enough to know that this conversation was going to go left. “But, I’m surprised an arms dealer would be interested in the education and well-being of black youths.”

“Mr. Stark no longer develops weapons,” T'Chaka corrected. “His weapons division shut down years ago.”

“And to answer your question, I care about the education and developments of all children.” Howard seemed unaffected by Erik’s accusation. “I believe that it is essential that children, no matter where they live or come from, deserve the same number of tools and resources. You never know, the next powerful mind may be in an inner city, but the key to unlock his or her potential may be of their grasp.”

“I feel that,” Erik paused for a moment before continuing. “You know, you’re right about kids who aren’t able to unlock their potential. Brown and black children in war-torn countries, for example. Kids who live in places where American soldiers still use your weapons against them.”

“Erik!” T’Challa snapped.

Mr. Stark held up a hand, “It’s alright. This wouldn’t be America if people weren’t allowed to express their displeasure.”

Erik huffed out a laugh and sneered as he looked Howard up and down as if he was assessing a prey. “This wouldn’t be America if a dude can literally aide in the murder of innocent people of color around the world AND support racist republican campaigns, and still be called a hero and invited to an event that’s supposed to support black people.”

“The evidence you’ve provided while trying to tarnish Mr. Stark’s character happened over ten years ago. Mr. Stark has spent the last decade trying to fix his wrongdoings,” T'Chaka looked livid under his mask of composure. T’Challa knew that his father probably disdained Erik for not only disrespecting an important, distinguished donor, but also having relations with his son. “People change, Mr. Stevens. I hope that eventually you will grow up and change yourself.”

Erik’s smirk faded and T’Challa knew that this was heading in a very dangerous direction. He placed a hand on Erik’s shoulder and nudged him a little, trying to get him to leave. “Erik, let us take a walk, hm?”

“I don’t gotta change,” Erik seethed, ignoring T’Challa in favor of glaring down at T'Chaka. “What’s gotta change is your willingness to accept any white man that’s willing to throw money ya way.”

“Erik-” T’Challa tried again, but this time it was his father who spoke over him.

“You use the troubles and trials of your ancestors as an excuse for why you can’t succeed in this world,” T'Chaka retaliated. “Do you think your parents would be proud of you now? Your grandparents?”

“Keep my family out your mouth,” Erik growled, his tone low and dangerous. “You weren’t on the front line with them, fightin’ for a better cause. You weren’t even in this country. You came when shit was already better. You don’t know what the hell they went through!”

“And neither do you!” T'Chaka said. “You are lazy, uneducated, and disrespectful, and if you continue to be an aggregator, I will have you removed!”

Erik sniffed. “You don’t gotta tell me twice,” He turned to leave, but before he left, he turned around to look at T'Chaka again. “And, by the way, if you really paid attention to what’s going on, you’d see that Mr. Stark here still collects checks from those weapons. He also donated a sizable fund to Senator Kramer, who once called the black youth you care so much about ‘thugs’ and has expressed strong fondness of the greatest cracker hits like tax cuts for the rich and the closing of community centers and black owned businesses while also promoting the gentrification of the city. That shit wasn’t ten years ago. It was this year, and the year before that. You may think I’m just an uneducated thug that plays football, but I know my shit. Don’t ever disrespect me by insultin’ my intelligence.”

Erik stalked out of the room, leaving everyone to stare after him in shock. T’Challa noticed then that they had an audience. People were staring at them and whispering among themselves. Nakia, who was also in attendance, gave T’Challa a questioning look.

T’Challa turned to follow him out, but his father stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Let him go, my son.”

T’Challa knew that his father meant more than just let him walk away. He wanted T’Challa to forget him. To stop associating himself with him. His father’s eyes pleaded with him, and T’Challa had to let his father down again.

“He’s troubled, Baba,” T’Challa said quietly. There was so much he wanted to tell his father about Erik. He wanted to explain how intelligent he was, how passionate he was about his people. Instead, he gently stepped away and his father’s hand fell from his shoulder. “I must speak with him.”

 _I hope you understand._ He thought, and he turned and followed Erik outside, ignoring the stares he got as he moved through the crowd.

Outside, Erik was pacing in front of the building. He looked worked up and angry, and when he saw T’Challa approaching him, he stopped to glare at the other man.

“I gotta cause a scene to get you to talk to me?”

“This is not about us, Erik, and we both know that.” T’Challa came to a stop in front of Erik and he fold his arms across his chest. “Why did you come here? Just to insult Stark?”

“I couldn’t waste the opportunity,” Erik said. “It was an insult to this school, a historically Black University, to have him here. That man don’t give a shit about us. He just trying to pay his way into heaven after his near-death experience. Wild how you and your pops don’t see that shit.”

“What if he is genuine, Erik?” T’Challa asked. “What if he really wants to help? His money can really improve the education and opportunity of poor, black children.”

“His money got poor people’s blood on it,” Erik sneered, his teeth clenched tight. “If he really wants to help, he should arm the people in the hood so they’d be able to defend themselves against the trigger happy police we got out here killin’ us.”

T’Challa sighed. “The world does not need more armed people, Erik. Why do you refuse to engage in dialogue? I’m sure if you’d spoken to my father with respect about your concerns regarding Mr. Stark, he would have listened.”

“Man, fuck all that.”

Erik’s dismissal angered T’Challa and he snapped, momentarily startling the other man. “You are too violent! Too angry! Why do you refuse to do anything other than blame other people for your problems!”

“You sound like your pops,” Erik accused. “You knew what I was about. Didn’t stop you from hoppin’ on this dick, though.”

T’Challa stared at Erik and the other man cocked his eyebrows at him, challenging him to deny his claims.

“You are right,” T’Challa replied, barely containing the building rage in his chest. He knew that Erik was trying to get a rise out of him, but he was only human. Erik’s words affected him. “I knew your personality, but I thought there was something deeper underneath your hate. I see now that it’s just rage, and more hatred. My father was right about you.”

Erik shrugged, “Good. I’m glad you got over all that puppy love shit.”

T’Challa stepped closer, his hands clenching at his sides. He felt dismissed, and it hurt. How could he have fallen for someone like Erik? T’Challa was used to feeling intelligent, but in that moment, he felt stupid and childish. Erik made him feel small. “Do not mistake my misplaced emotions for me being weak, _N’Jadaka_.” The use of Erik’s real birth given name was a power play. Nobody called him that. Not the professors, not his peers, not the announcers at his games… Nobody. It made T’Challa feel a little better when he finally got Erik’s smirk to go away. “I have tolerated your rudeness. I will no longer.”

Erik rose to the challenge, stepping closer as well and staring into T’Challa’s eyes. “Don’t be gettin’ big on me now, T’Challa. I’m findin’ it real hard to take a man seriously after I had him under me, beggin’ me to fuck h-”

T’Challa swung on Erik before he could stop himself. His right hook was fueled by the pent-up emotions about Erik and his father from the last few weeks. The other man reeled back and held a hand over his nose. He looked pissed and he checked his fingers for blood, and T’Challa regretted his actions immediately. He hated that Erik had this much control over him. He’d never been violent before.

Erik looked at him with rage in his eyes and, for a second, T’Challa expected him to hit him back. Instead, he only licked the blood away from his lips and spat it on the ground.

“Feel better, golden boy?” He asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and walked away, leaving T’Challa standing there with a throbbing right hand.

* * *

 

March was the busiest month for T’Challa because, as head of Student Ambassadors, he was tasked with recruiting new students and he also did campus tours a few times a week. He loved meeting the high school students who looked at him with curiosity, wonder, and intrigue as he led them around his school, which was the top HBCU in America and was so rich with culture and history.

His tour group this time was an excited, overly-enthusiastic bunch, which was fine with T’Challa. He preferred those groups anyway because they weren’t afraid to engage in discussion and ask questions. He took them to the different buildings, showing them their prized Science and Technologies Center, and their Arts building, where some contemporary dancers were more than happy to perform for them for a little while. Next, he led them to one of their libraries, the main one named after Coretta Scott King. This was the library where the huge picture of Erik’s grandparents sat on the wall. As usual, he brought the prospective freshmen to the picture and gave some background. Afterwards, he turned to the wide-eyed students and said, “Their grandson attends this very University.”

“Heard that dude’s a real jackass,” a voice said from behind T’Challa, and he immediately knew who it was before the other man appeared in front of him.

Everyone laughed and T’Challa used the moment to compose himself. He hadn’t seen Erik in almost a month and it was somehow still too soon. Still, he was cordial and tried not to let his emotions play on his face. “This is Erik. His grandparents are the man and woman in the picture.”

The group greeted Erik in unison, and the man turned to T’Challa.

“You got space in your lil tour for one more?”

T’Challa stared at Erik and wondered what he was playing at, but not wanting to reveal his feelings to Erik or the group, he nodded. “You can come along, Erik.”

The tour lasted another 20 minutes or so. As he led them to different areas on campus, he could feel Erik’s eyes on him, but he ignored him. It was hard, but he managed it long enough. When he dropped the students back at place they started, he bid them farewell and tried to make a hasty escape, but Erik stopped him before he could get far enough away.

“Hey,” Erik said as he stopped T’Challa with a hand braced on his chest. “You got a minute?”

“Barely,” T’Challa replied curtly. “I have… somewhere to be.”

Erik shoved his hands in his pockets. “You can spare a few minutes, T’Challa. C’mon.”

T’Challa sighed. He was still wrapped around Erik’s fingers and it disappointed him. He considered walking away, but when Erik reached out to tug on his sweater gently, T’Challa crumbled.

“Five minutes.” He said, and then he turned and walked away.

Erik followed him until they reached the quad and they sat on a bench under a huge tree. T’Challa watched as students bustled past them and waited for Erik to say something.

It was a few minutes before Erik finally spoke. “I’m sorry.”

T’Challa wasn’t expecting Erik to apologize. He expected excuses and maybe a request to continue their arrangement, but an apology? T’Challa was shocked into silence. When he didn’t offer a response quickly enough, Erik spoke up again.

“I was outta pocket when I said that shit to you, T,” He looked down, avoiding T’Challa’s gaze. “I was angry, and I took it out on you and that was bullshit.”

“Erik,” T’Challa started, and then stopped when the words didn’t come to him right away. He tried again after taking a few moments to get his shit together. “I accept your apology, Erik.”

“Cool,” Erik said, still not meeting T’Challa’s eyes. “I mean, thanks. I’m workin’ on myself. Tryna get my shit together and bring my grades up. Your pops… when he called me lazy and thought I didn’t know what the fuck I was talkin’ about, I realized that I needed to prove myself. I’m too smart to be runnin’ around here without a fuckin’ 4.0 GPA, you feel me?”

T’Challa nodded, “Yes.”

Erik was quiet again for a while and T’Challa decided to finally say something of worth for the first time since the conversation started.

“I apologize as well.”

Erik finally met his eyes and he seemed confused. Like T’Challa didn’t have anything to apologize for.

“I’m sorry for resenting you for not feeling the same about me,” T’Challa’s face burned as he finally admitted his feelings out loud. “It was childish of me, and it was my mistake. It was my first time engaging in a casual relationship and… I obviously was not prepared for it.”

Erik smiled, and it was one of those genuine smiles. Not a smirk or a cocky grin, but a real, toothy smile that looked like the sunrise. “You know, when you asked me about the other women, I told the truth. I was still messin’ around with them when we started. I left out some details, though. Like how I stopped fuckin’ around with other people a few weeks later. There wasn’t anybody else but you. Still ain’t.”

T’Challa’s eyebrows rose in shock. “What?”

Erik looked at the ground again and shrugged. “You weren’t the only one that got caught up.”

“Why didn’t you say something, Erik?” T’Challa asked. “Even after the fight we had, why didn’t you speak to me?”

“I thought about callin’ you, but I figured I would work on myself first. Get this anger shit in check and become someone you can be proud to bring around your family, especially your dad.”

T’Challa reached out and touched Erik’s hand. “My father is the most important figure in my life. His opinion means a great deal to me, but at the end of the day, I am my own man. My feelings for you would not have been affected by his.” When Erik didn’t look up or reply, he squeezed his hand. “And you do not have to work on improving yourself alone, Erik. I am here to help you. Above all, I care for you deeply. I am willing to build a friendship with you again and help you through this.”

“Just a friendship?” Erik asked, and it was the first time he ever saw Erik look unsure of himself. Erik, who was dominant and cocky and sometimes rude, looked at T’Challa for acceptance with his heart on his sleeve. T’Challa felt like he fell in love with him again, even though he was sure that he never fell out of it in the first place.

“We can take things slow,” He said with a smile. “You can take me on a proper date and everything.”

Erik surprised him by leaning in to kiss him. He’d never kissed Erik in public before. Everything intimate between them had been behind closed doors. It was just a peck, but when Erik pulled back, the wariness in his eyes was gone. He looked like he didn’t give a shit that they were in front of everyone. The Dean’s son and the football team’s star player holding hands and staring at each other with blatant adoration.

“Missed you, Mr. Coming to America.” Erik said as he reached out to tug on T’Challa’s beard lightly.

T’Challa smiled. “I’ve missed you as well, Mr. Stevens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may write some one-off follow ups and maybe an epilogue. I kinda fell in love with them lol. Thanks for stickin' around. I'm finally gonna read and reply to some of these comments now that it's over and done with!


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